The Game of Telephone
by JavaRobot
Summary: I'm sorry I missed your call.


_I will keep calling you to see_

_If you're sleeping, are you dreaming?_

_If you're dreaming, are you dreaming of me?_

_~Blue October, "Calling You"_

* * *

Mia sat on her couch that night, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, in her pajamas and crying. God, she was an absolute mess. How pathetic.

With shaking hands, she picked up her cell phone. God, she couldn't believe she was going to call him.

_Pathetic._

She had always prided herself in being strong and independent. When she had left Kurain, her aunt had told her she was a fool and she'd come crawling back. When she'd first started as an attorney, just an intern at Grossberg's, rumors had cropped up that she had done nothing but slept her way into the job.

She'd shown them both.

Now here she was, desperately putting his number into her phone, just desperate to hear his voice. Absolutely pathetic.

It rang once, twice, three times…it finally went to voicemail.

_Hello, you've reached Diego Armando at Grossberg Law Offices. I'm sorry I've missed your call. Please leave your name and number and I'll return your call as soon as I am able._

He sounded so damn professional on his work voicemail; Mia only hoped that she sounded half as confident and calm on hers. There was a click, the signal to leave a voicemail, but she let silence sit for a moment before she hung up.

Her fingers hovered over the numbers for his personal cell. She hesitated, then took the plunge.

As she heard a ringing in her ears, she also heard a noise in her apartment: an electronic-sounding version of some jazz song he'd always listened to. His phone was sitting in a box given to her by the hospital, on top of the clothes he'd been wearing and next to his beat-up wallet.

It went to voicemail, of course.

_Hey, this is Diego. Leave me a message and I'll call you back!_

She let silence hang in the air again, then quietly said, "I miss you. I…I love you…"

Another few seconds of silence, and then she hung up. She felt the familiar heat behind her eyes that had been welling up over the past several days. Over in the box, his phone beeped. _New voicemail._

Over on the couch, the floodgates broke and Mia quietly cried.

* * *

It was Maya who gave him his old cell phone.

She visited him in prison, at least once a month, just to talk. It was cathartic for both of them to share their stories of Mia. Stories of her childhood, growing up with Maya in Kurain Village. Stories of her first stumbling years as a new lawyer, learning to navigate the world of law.

One day, the guard stopped him at the door to the visiting room as he entered.

"Here. Your visitor brought you some personal items, but you can't have them in your cell. We'll take 'em back after your visit."

He took the plastic container that the guard handed him. As he sat down, he heard Maya cheerfully greet him.

"Hey, Mr. Armando! How are you?"

He gestured to the container. "I'm fine. What's this?"

"Oh! I brought those for you. I found them in Mia's desk a long time ago, in a box with some old clothes in it. I forgot about them until Nick and I were cleaning last week." Maya clasped her hands together. "They're yours, aren't they?"

He opened the container and peered inside. An old leather wallet and an outdated cell phone. He picked up the wallet and saw an ancient license and a few old credit cards inside.

"Diego Armando. That'd be me." He picked up the cell phone and powered it on. "Ha! I can't believe this old thing still turns on."

"Ha, yeah, it took a while to find a charger!" Maya grinned brightly. "I had to borrow one from Detective Gumshoe. He's the only person who has a five-year-old phone."

"So, I have…40 voicemails," he remarked, scrolling through the screen. "Knowing my luck, they're probably all telemarketers."

Maya bit her lip and looked down at her feet. "Um…I hope you don't mind…I listened to them."

"Not at all." He went to put the phone back in the container, but Maya made a noise of protest. "Huh?"

"No, you have…you have to listen to them." She smiled, but it was a very small, sad smile. "Please, Mr. Armando."

"Well…okay." He shrugged and clicked the first voicemail.

It started out with a few seconds of static silence. He glanced at Maya, confused; she had a knowing smile on her face. Finally, there was a soft voice over the speaker.

_"I miss you. I…I love you..."_

He almost dropped the phone. _Mia?_ he mouthed at her and she beamed at him. He clicked for the next voicemail.

_"H—Hi, Diego. Um…I know you can't…hear this. But I just wanted to hear your voice again. So...I love you. That's…that's all I wanted to say."_

He had to put the phone down for a moment, his hands shaking. Maya held up her own cell phone. "After Mia died, Nick let me listen to a cell phone recording of her. It made me feel better, so I thought…maybe it would make you feel better to listen to these."

Diego took a trembling breath. "…It…it does."

"Great!" She stood up and grabbed her bag. "I talked to the guard…he promised that you can keep it here, but you can't take the phone back to your cell. But he said you can come in to listen to it anytime you want."

"Thank you." His voice was hoarse, but she heard. "Thank you, Maya."

Maya slung her bag over her shoulder. "You're welcome, Mr. Armando."

She left, but Diego made no move to leave the room, instead glancing behind him at the door. The guard nodded his approval, so he hit the button again.

_"It's me again. I wish I could…really talk to you, you know? But..." _A pause in the voicemail, and he could hear her sniffling. _"That's one of your rules, isn't it? Take what you can get. If this is all I can get for right now…"_

_"…Well, it'll have to do."_


End file.
